


Tell Me You'll Come Back

by cellwright



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, akechi from ryujis perspective, akira is akin to worship, akira's a little shit as usual, archive warning only for description of shooting someone, if it was more realistic and everyone was more emotional seeing him, ryuji missed his boyfriend, ryuji misses him more than anything, ryuji takes it tho, spoilers with akechi technically, the whole team is mentioned, they're soft let them be emotional, when akira comes back from the interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellwright/pseuds/cellwright
Summary: “Still got those stupid glasses on, though.”He must have found them after being interrogated. They were thoroughly scuffed, the center hanging on by a splint in the plastic.“You like them though, don’t you?” Akira feigned innocence, knowing Ryuji liked his eyes more than anything.“Yeah…” he mumbled instead, “Y’still look pretty.”Alternatively: Akira comes back from having succeeded in convincing the world he was dead. Ryuji gets emotional.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 5
Kudos: 166





	Tell Me You'll Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been able to get this out of my head after reading the team reuniting with Akira with another ship and rewatching the scene the game gives us, realizing that mAybe they should have all been a lil more emotional about it? idk about you but if I was their age and had to work out this plan that could have had my boyfriend killed i'd sure as hell be cryin if i saw him again.  
> only 4k words, a lil bit of a short one, but i have something else in the workings. mwah hah

Ryuji knew. He knew what the plan was, they had gone over it hundreds of times, spent hours and hours in LeBlanc’s attic discussing the matter until they were all hunched over and half asleep in their seats, all over some damn _pancakes_. 

It didn’t matter, though. Anxiety gnawed at Ryuji’s ribcage with every single step of the way, every _what-if_ plaguing his thoughts until he spent more time awake thinking about it than they had spent planning, and planning, and planning. Akira reassured him the night before they tasked Makoto to deliver the calling card, on his shitty crate bed whose thin mattress somehow creaked with every movement. Hell, Akira was the one doing the job and Ryuji was the one worried sick about it.

Ryuji kissed every surface of Akira’s face he could reach, each accompanied by another creak of the mattress. He fumbled with his hands and awkwardly bumbled around, placing gentle kisses on his eyebrows and eyelids and under his jaw and… God, he was tired. He wanted… What did he want? 

He wanted to keep Akira safe forever, where they could stay holed up in LeBlanc’s attic for all of eternity, even if it meant they would have to entertain themselves with the ceaseless dust that danced in the air, turning into golden flakes whenever light would find a way to stream through the windows. He hated coffee but if it meant Akira’s happiness, he’d drink the stuff every damn day if he needed to. Gallons at the drop of a hat, all at Akira’s word.

Akira’s laugh was weak under Ryuji’s insistent pecks; even he couldn’t hide his nerves. He shouldn’t have had to regardless of the fact, but it was difficult to disguise the tremble of his limbs as every kiss confirmed the plan further. The plan, the plan, the plan. 

Maybe it was Ryuji who let himself cry first, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell. It was his lips falling onto the tears that languidly rolled down Akira’s face. 

Ryuji had never seen their leader cry. 

They knew it was going to work. It _needed_ to work, they _knew_ Akechi was the traitor, but they couldn’t have been blamed for crying. Not when, at the end of the day, they were both two damn teenagers fighting for their lives, for their justice, inside of an outlandish world summoned through an app in their phones. 

Ryuji knew Akira was brave, he was everything he could have wished he could be and more. He would pull it off, he knew, he knew, he knew. 

The team even rehearsed what they would all say when Joker would “offer” himself to take the treasure, just to trick the damn traitor into thinking they were clueless kids, just as he was. 

It had to work. There were doubts, little discrepancies that could destroy their entire plan, but Akira’s resolve was strengthened with Ryuji wrapped up around him. His arms had an iron grip on his torso and all he could was whisper little begs in his ears, telling him he better have been planning on coming back to them. To _him._ That he’d buy him all the ramen he wanted, he’d do whatever he wanted, just if Akira promised he would come back. 

To think they would have ended up sniffling messes in each other's arms when they had accidentally walked into Kamoshida’s palace. They started out such a strong team, their idea of justice so heavyset they didn’t ever stop to examine the situation until it was far too late. 

Until they had played right into the hands of the pseudo charming Ace Detective that graced every television station he hauled himself around to, just to… just to what? For Akechi to tell Akira he hated him, to go as far as trying to kill him in Mementos with a weaker Persona, all to deceive him. All for a damn glove that sat at the bottom of a cardboard box in the attic, tucked away on a dusty shelf he never touched. All for Akechi to rest the barrel of a silencer between his eyes, shoot him dead, and fulfill his promise from Mementos. Would it make him feel powerful? Would it have made up for his shitty childhood, just to prove he had an upper hand over the leader of the Phantom Thieves?

Ryuji didn’t know all of it. He knew Akechi’s grand scheme for Akira and always suspected more to the story, but Akira never wanted to talk about it. His eyebrows would fall into a heavy set line on his face that aged him a decade if Ryuji tried to mention it, and he decided he didn’t like the worn out look on his face. 

It didn’t matter, though. They stayed on Akira’s bed, crying into each other's shoulder until one of them pulled away and meekly laughed. Ryuji couldn’t remember who it was. He never remembered bringing his legs up to loosely throw them over Akira’s thighs, probably in an attempt to hold onto him even tighter, but paid it no mind. 

“We have this, alright? We--We got it, _you_ got it, and…” Ryuji trailed off, somehow out of breath. Geez, crying already took a lot out of him, but it was worth it if his shortness of breath got Akira to smile. He could have drained the whole damn ocean and stored it in his lungs if it meant seeing him smile again. 

“I’ll be alright, ‘Yuji. Joker’s got this.” 

The attic was cold. It was November and the chilly winds of fall began to gust through the streets of Shibuya, biting at their noses as a warning sent by winter. Ryuji’s train left a long time ago, the last one to leave for the night, and he probably had his mom blowing up his phone wondering where he was but he didn’t care. He wanted another moment longer with his hand tangled up in Akira’s hair, using each other as heaters for the draft passing through LeBlanc's shitty interior. 

“You’ll stay, right?” Akira muttered like it was even a question he needed answered. Ryuji nodded his head, but they didn’t make any move to get ready for bed and get rest they would very much need for the next day. Ryuji didn’t want to think about the next day. 

He aimlessly followed Akira through the attic when he forced himself to untangle himself from Ryuji’s legs and get them some pajamas for the night. Ryuji put on whatever Akira threw at him, a grey hoodie and worn sweatpants that would last him the night, all without a second thought. He would have followed Akira anywhere, really, anywhere he wanted. 

He didn’t know when he let himself fall in love with the guy. It was during a whirlwind of adrenaline and running high in Kamoshida’s palace, all when Akira unleashed the potential of his Persona to protect him and they were sprinting through the dungeon trying to find a way out. It was gradual after that, maybe, when Ryuji unchained Captain Kidd from the shackles of his heart and he became Skull. All when it was just Arsene and Captain Kidd traversing the depths of their first palace and hearts, before their own desires were skewed and they fell into the trap of…

Ryuji knew he’d find a second home in Akira’s arms. If anything, it should have been Akira being held to his chest, as he was the one with the most difficult job for the next day. Or was it past midnight already? It didn’t matter. Akira held on to Ryuji like his own lifeline though, and Ryuji was going to give it to him if that was what he wanted. He wanted more than anything to be in Jokers place in the plan, just to relieve the burden of their leader and risk dying himself, but it couldn’t have been changed. Not when Ryuji tried to convince himself of it weeks before when they were figuring out the logistics, and not at that moment, with moonlight piling through the attic’s dingy windows and Akira’s heartbeat settling next to his ear. 

Akira was nervous, Ryuji knew, but he wouldn’t dare show it the coming day. 

\-----

The team felt like anything could have been a tell while entering Sae’s Palace. They avoided catching each other's eyes in fear of Akechi somehow noticing something was up, then realizing that _that_ was suspicious, and then falling into an only minorly awkward air that wasn’t addressed. Akechi didn't acknowledge it if he felt it too. 

Joker pretended to ignore the flitted glances thrown his way whenever Akechi wasn’t paying attention. Right before entering Sae’s treasure room, he only took care in catching Skull's eye for a fleeting moment, accompanied with a smile and curt nod that could have passed as a twitch if anyone had actually caught it, but Ryuji knew. He could have heard the silent _I love you_ behind it, and tried to send one back, but Joker’s eyes were concentrated in front of him. He couldn’t have looked nervous, even if he tried. That was Joker's nature, after all. 

Ryuji could have killed Akechi, if he really wanted to. Really, he could have killed Kamoshida, or even Madarame if he convinced himself of it. He would have liked to think that he would have done it without a conscience, but he never truly would have known. The Phantom Thieves weren’t killers, after all. 

They could have been.

But they were not. 

Unfortunately so, in some circumstances. 

\-----

_Holy shit._

Of course Akira did it, of course! Ryuji’s eyes only skimmed over the headline before they glazed over in elation and some sense of relief he didn’t know if he should have felt guilty about. He stared ahead dumbly from where he stood in the middle of the sidewalk of his neighborhood, gaze boring through the flashing television in the display, but he could give a damn about getting run over by some biker at that point. 

He shoved his hand in the pocket of Akira’s grey hoodie, the one he’d been wearing ever since he and Akira spent the night together. It smelled so much like him, and he’d finally be able to see him...

Their leader had succeeded in killing himself, and it was making headlines. 

Ryuji couldn’t think of what to do with himself. He hastily pulled his phone out of his pocket, hands too shaky with emotion to get a proper grip on it before checking the flooding messages coming in through the Phantom Thieves group chat. 

The bastard did it. _They_ did it. 

\-----

The team was waiting in the attic. They were supposed to see him, finally, but the seconds passing stretched into hours with how antsy they were. They knew they succeeded, but seeing Akira would have really solidified it. It was a thrill, knowing they deluded a detective at his own game, much less with the help of Sae Niijima, whose heart they had just stolen, all transforming into a whirlwind of _gah_ \--!

Even Yusuke couldn’t contain himself. His leg bounced with a new intensity at every anxious glance over the room. Ann stared at the split in a wooden support beam over her head, but even she couldn’t bring herself to break the silence and try to crack a joke. The tension was thick and suffocating; no one wanted to speak and ruin it. 

Ryuji was the worst about it. He paced around, wearing down the already worn floorboards with every heavy step, but it got the nervous energy out of him. At some point, his right leg was in flames, begging him to sit down and have mercy on it for once, but he couldn’t. 

Instead, he distracted himself by getting a look at the attic, he never thought to do before. Akira’s shelf was pack full of dumb trinkets, but sitting in the middle sat the decorative ramen bowl Ryuji gave him, proud, front and center. Geez, Ryuji thought he would have gotten rid of it at some point, but Akira had it there already when Ryuji visited for the first time. He moved around the room, but every glance at the bowl sent another pang through his heart. He was too caught up in thinking about seeing Akira that he didn’t know what he would do when he actually _did_ see him, but it was too late to think about. 

Sae poked her head over the banister of the stairs, not being able to get half of her sentence out before the team was trampling over each other to get down the stairs first. Ryuji was stuck at the back of the pack in his momentary confusion, Futaba and Ann snagging the front. 

He wasn’t going to push through them and instead took his place at the back of the group, watching Sae signal behind her when they were at of LeBlanc's door. The air was high strung, and Ryuji vaguely wondered if he would electrify Akira on accident with how much energy ran through his veins. It happened before, in tiny shocks on his hand whenever they were particularly energetic. 

There he was, their leader. Covered in bruises, eyes half lidded and shuffling with a limp, but he was _there._ He was there, alive, right in front of them. 

Futaba couldn’t contain herself. She was the first to sprint over him, wrapping her arms around his waist and shoving her face into his shirt while he caught her with a little _hmph_. After the initial surprise, he carefully hugged her back, not minding the tears that were most definitely soaking through his front. 

It wasn’t hard for everyone else to start crying, even if it was a little. After all, they were teenagers at the end of the day. They were teenagers who had seen some shit, yeah, but the risk of this plan was so high and couldn’t possibly be calculable, so who was going to blame them for crying? Not Sae, who was struggling to hold herself back at just how touching the reunion was. How happy they all looked, smiling while they cried. 

Ryuji swore he even heard a sniffle from Boss behind the counter, but he was probably going to take the fact to the grave. 

Futaba had to wrench herself away, embarrassingly wiping her red face. A lot of the plan rested on her shoulders, with her whole idea regarding the phone and bugging Akechi’s. She didn’t have time to get sheepish though, because soon Ann was throwing her arms around Akira’s neck, and Makoto failed to keep her composure for more than two seconds when Akira was the one to pull her in for a big hug. She wasn’t one for initiating contact, but melted into Akira’s embrace, mumbling about how happy she was everything worked out. 

Haru and Yusuke were mostly the same, both a little hesitant in their movements, but no one could deny even the silent tears gliding down Yusuke’s face. They were all ecstatic, too much relief flooding their bodies for them to do much else. 

Ryuji couldn’t move. He watched Akira’s movements, every hug being met with a little flinch, presumably from whatever bruises were hiding under his clothes. He would hug back tightly though, disregarding the initial flinch to pull everyone in close. 

Who knows what shit he had seen in that interrogation room. A lot, by the looks of it.

Yusuke eventually pulled away, leaving Akira to turn his head towards Ryuji. “‘Yuji?” he mumbled, faint cock in his head. 

Yeah, there were the waterworks. They were hiding somewhere. 

Ryuji couldn’t stop himself. His leg quietly protested, but he was in front of Akira in half a second, grabbing his face to smash their lips together. He couldn’t even register that Akira’s hands were pulling him closer from the back of his neck and waist, and that his own were hopelessly pressed against Akira’s chest. It didn’t matter, he was just so overwhelmed that his evidence was there, kissing him back like they didn’t have an audience. They didn't notice the cheer from Ann and Futaba, or the wolf whistle from Sojiro. 

Ryuji was the first to pull back, sending Akira a watery smile. “You’d think they’d kill ya with how beat up you look.” 

Akira flashed him a grin. “Takes a little more than that to get rid of me.”

“Still got those stupid glasses on, though.” 

He must have found them after being interrogated. They were thoroughly scuffed, the center hanging on by a splint in the plastic. 

“You like them though, don’t you?” Akira feigned innocence, knowing Ryuji liked his eyes more than anything. 

“Yeah…” he mumbled instead, “Y’still look pretty.” He ran his hand through Akira’s hair, surveying the damage hiding under his thick hair. It had been unbrushed for days, falling over his forehead in a chunk to cover up whatever cut was hidden under there. 

There came an uncomfortable clearing of throats from behind them. Ryuji whirled around, momentarily forgetting where they all were, to be faced with the averted eyes of their teammates. 

“O-Oh, sorry. Forgot y’guys were here,” Ryuji muttered, casting his own eyes downward. He felt the back of his neck grow hot, eliciting a chuckle in Akira from behind. 

“We should probably explain to Sae and Sojiro, right?” Akira asked, taking Ryuji’s hand and sliding them into the nearest booth of the cafe. Everyone else found their place around them and got to talking. 

There was a lot of explaining to be done. 

\-----

Akira was trying not to fall asleep at the table. Every shift of his body caused a wave of throbs throughout his body, particularly in his torso, which suffered the brunt of kicking and batons from the police in the holding room. 

Sojiro noticed it first. “I think that’s enough for the time being. We can continue later, but this guy needs some rest.” 

Thankfully they were all in agreement. The dark circles under Akira’s eyes were apparent; who knows how long the police kept him awake and drugged up. He was a little worse for wear, to say the least. 

They all slowly trickled out of the cafe to catch their trains, Makoto being the first to hug Akira again and leave with Sae. The rest followed, all giving Akira a hug and weary smiles, but soon it was just Ryuji, Akira, Sojiro, and Futaba still inside. 

“He staying with you?” Sojiro directed the question at Akira, who only nodded. “Alright, I’m closing up. Get to sleep, alright? You look awful.”

There was no malice in his voice, and Akira only smiled at Sojiro’s usual dialect. Futaba squeezed the life out of him in an embrace before reluctantly leaving, leaving the bell above LeBlanc’s ringing in the quiet air at their absence. The lines under Akira’s eyes really settled into his face, and he let his expression fall. God, he couldn’t tell if the drugs had fully worn out or not. It was strong, whatever they injected into him, but he didn’t know if there was any still straggling along in his system with just how much he felt he could collapse from it. 

He let his head fall onto Ryuji’s shoulder. Their hands were vaguely intertwined on the table top, but he only tightened his grip with a yawn into the air. 

“They really did a number on ya, huh?” Ryuji mumbled, voice cracking far too much for his liking. 

“I’m never touching drugs in my life, ever. Can’t feel m’feet.” Akira said it to lighten the tension, but it only caused Ryuji to furrow his brows in worry. He didn’t want to baby Akira, but it looked like he needed it. 

“You wanna take a shower or somethin’? Y’smell like shit too,” Ryuji joked instead, even though it really wasn’t that bad. He played with the back of Akira’s hair, wondering if he could stay like this forever. He would have lasted a few years, probably. 

“Mm, asshole. Too tired,” Akira responded. Ryuji made up his mind and maneuvered himself over Akira’s lap and onto the edge of the bench, facing the cafe counter. 

He tapped his back and Akira got the memo, shifting so that he could wrap his arms around Ryuji’s neck, bringing his legs forward to do the same around his waist. Ryuji had been training for sure, standing up with relative ease and heading towards the attic stairs. 

Akira decided he was going to demand piggy-back rides more often. He let his head fall on Ryuji’s back, already slipping in and out of consciousness. He didn’t mind that with every step, he felt the bruises on his legs brush up against Ryuji’s waist enough to jolt him out of sleep he wanted _very_ badly, but relaxed when Ryuji gently dropped him on the edge of the bed. 

“Pajamas?” Ryuji asked, but didn’t need directions to find them thrown on top of the rest of Akira’s clothes where he kept them in a cardboard box. He stood in front of Akira on the bed, who was still flitting in and out of reality. His busted up hands lay limp on his sides. 

“Up,” Ryuji said, gesturing to Akira’s arms, and he complied without question. Ryuji did his best to pull his shirt off without irritating too many wounds, but succeeded with only a couple of suppressed flinches. 

“I’m home ‘n you’re already tryin’ to get my clothes off?” Akira mumbled, cheeky smile on his face. If he could joke around, he couldn’t have been doing too bad, Ryuji thought. 

“Sh-shuddup! Bastard,” Ryuji grew red again, but maybe it was worth it if Akira smiled at him again. Maybe. 

He pulled off Akira’s pants and decided to leave him in his boxers considering he looked two seconds to passing out. He collapsed onto the mattress, leaving Ryuji to have to move him under the covers so that he was comfortably lying down. 

Ryuji grabbed a blanket from one of Akira’s shelves and threw it at the seats on the wall, already planning on sleeping there for the night. He was a mover in his sleep sometimes, and wasn’t looking to irritate Akira any further. Just the bruises on his legs spooked him into it, as badly as he wanted to have his hands back on Akira. 

“Sleep here,” Akira mumbled from the bed, but his tired voice was full of enough authority that Ryuji knew arguing with him would be futile. Classic Joker, if anything. 

Ryuji shuffled over and slowly slipped under the covers after pulling his shoes off, not caring about the fact that he was still wearing jeans, but he was careful to stay at the edge of the mattress.

Akira was having none of it. He grabbed Ryuji’s sleeve and pulled him so that they were face to face, sharing a pillow. 

“My hoodie?” he asked, somehow with enough energy to smirk at him. 

“‘S comfortin’,” Ryuji said, too tired to defend himself. When had _he_ become so exhausted?

Akira wheezed out whatever laugh he had left in him and let their foreheads touch. Ryuji took Akira's (mostly broken) glasses off and threw them onto where his shoes (probably) were, but reveled in the sensation of just being back in Akira’s presence. Just looking at his face again, knowing he was alive and they served the concept of justice they let themselves lose face of… it was enough to satiate him for a couple of months. Satisfaction was embedded in his bones now that he could breathe easy, unlike any of the anxiety that the last couple of days offered him. 

“You’re a real dork starin’ at me like that,” Akira said, eyes still closed. Ryuji wanted to sputter out a _how?!_ , but Akira already had a sleepy smirk on his face. 

Ryuji huffed and let his eyelids fall. He’d have to think with his eyes closed, then. 

They were extremely lucky, all things considered. He racked up a hefty number on the “how many times have I almost died?’ list, a number he knew they were all keeping track of. It was a frightening thought, also when he gave thought to the fact he knew his number was higher than his teammates. 

Akira always kept Ryuji on the frontlines. Ryuji was grateful, knowing he would always be fighting side to side with their leader and whoever else he put on the party for a mission. It was great to get the energy out, but he’d already given Akira multiple aneurysms just with the sheer amount of times he’d been KO’d cold from a shadow. That, or he was on the brink of death, the vague echo of Akira shouting for a healing spell or a bead, _anything,_ to get him back on his feet before shit would turn for the worst. 

Damn Akechi. Ryuji thought about what his own hands have achieved, and _no_ , not in that regard. No, he thought about the callouses his palms have developed even through Skull’s gloves, all from his iron tight grip on whatever crowbar he liked to use to nail shadows in the head. That, or the baseball bat he quite liked, haphazardly stuffed with a myriad of nails on its outside, it all got the job done. 

He didn’t know Akechi like Akira did. No, but he knew there was something deeper in their bond, something bittersweet that made Akira the least bit sympathetic towards the detective. 

But Ryuji didn’t. He thought about it before, when Akira told him that Akechi had ulterior motives, or at least wasn’t telling the full truth. It got Ryuji mad then, but when Futaba bugged Akechi’s phone and heard about his plan to kill Akira, Ryuji saw red. The bastard, waltzing around the Phantom Thieves like he had them pinned under his thumb. 

He knew that Futaba and Haru would never forgive him for their own personal reasons, but Ryuji’s were selfish in a way. Just to get Akira buttered up, all to kill him in the end. How did Akira feel, with the barrel of a gun held to his forehead, emitting warmth from when it took the life of the police officer in the room with them. Was Akira scared? Did Akechi feel bad, even for a fleeting moment? Was the gun heavy, or were the all the innocent lives he had taken even heavier? 

It was fucked up, Ryuji knew, but he couldn’t help but wonder. He probably wouldn’t have had the guts to do it. To use the same gun, just place it on Akechi’s forehead. Maybe hover it over his temple, feel the weight of the trigger on the pad of his finger, just to see the fear in Akechi's eyes. Maybe he would know then, how his victims felt. Did they feel fear? Did they accept their fate? Would Akechi accept his? What goes around, comes around, after all. 

There it was. The Ryuji that Ryuji didn’t like. 

He had to readjust his body under the covers just to calm the fuck down. He got to thinking like that sometimes, and then had to think about if he even deserved to be a Phantom Thief, having such thoughts. He wondered if the others had those processes creep up on their minds too, maybe with other people. 

Ryuji listened to Akira’s deep breaths. He wasn’t crazy, he knew when he could listen to Akira breath and feel himself relax. You’d have to be crazy to look at Akira and not want to do anything that would make him happy. 

He determinedly sighed, forcing himself to get to sleep already. It was a long few days without their leader. If Ryuji was this distraught over it, he wondered what their future carried. 

After all, the life of a Phantom Thief was never destined to be fair, was it?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! if ur down here please consider dropping a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed *3*. follow me on twitter, kriswritesthing, for updates and announcements whenever i upload anything (more reliable than an email, if anything).  
> im on a pegoryu roll rn while playing royal so expect more to come soon, hopefully! something super long in the workings already. hope pegoryu readers are still out there, haha, i'll have other stuff out too tho.  
> stay safe everyone! thanks for reading again <3  
> heres a link for the twitter lol https://twitter.com/kriswritesthing  
> also this was possible with the motivation i got from my friends cat and said friend is valiantly trying to find this account. pray for me when he does because he's in for a roller coaster


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